


Fun and Conversation vs. Good Ol' Fashioned Lubrication

by Siobhan_Schuyler



Series: Hollywood North [2]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-27
Updated: 2007-04-27
Packaged: 2017-10-19 07:05:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/198223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siobhan_Schuyler/pseuds/Siobhan_Schuyler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen eyes Jared sideways, shrugging on his coat. It's gotten cold out in the past week; they can see their breath when they step out of the bar into the wet street.</p><p>"How much did you have to drink?" he asks Jared, watching him maneuver all eighteen feet of himself between two parked cars and succeeding by a hair.</p><p>"No more than you," Jared over-enunciates, the way you do when you're trying not to sound as drunk as you are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fun and Conversation vs. Good Ol' Fashioned Lubrication

**Author's Note:**

> Earlier in the [Hollywood North](http://archiveofourown.org/works/198219) verse.

Jensen eyes Jared sideways, shrugging on his coat. It's gotten cold out in the past week; they can see their breath when they step out of the bar into the wet street.

"How much did you have to drink?" he asks Jared, watching him maneuver all eighteen feet of himself between two parked cars and succeeding by a hair.

"No more than you," Jared over-enunciates, the way you do when you're trying not to sound as drunk as you are.

"Uh huh. All right, come on," Jensen laughs, and steadies Jared by grabbing his arm. He wonders idly just how many beers it takes to bring down a freakish giant who usually drinks everyone else under the table. It's been a hard week.

"Are we going home?" Jared looks around like he's never seen Yaletown before, or just enjoying the view.

"I'm walking you to your hotel. You can use the fresh air."

Once they've reached a fairly obstacle-free stretch of straight sidewalk, Jensen lets go of Jared's arm, but Jared stays close, bumping shoulders. Two big guys like them, having to squeeze themselves into tight shots eighteen hours a day has lead to this particular professional hazard. There is not such thing anymore as personal space.

Eight blocks down, when Jensen's mind has drifted to how comfy his bed will be when he gets home and just how many hours of sleep he can indulge in, Jared speaks up, voice crisp and loud in the damp evening.

"How 'bout you come home with me, since you're already walking me there?" Put like that, it seems like logic wants to be the main motivation. A sidelong glance and a sly half-smile from Jared says he's not as shitfaced as he'd seemed ten minutes before.

"Maybe," Jensen smirks, looking away, out at the end of the street, trying to spot the marquee of the building they've put Jared up in. They rarely go to his place; Jensen's is closer to everything. "Since I'm already walking you there."

Jared stops when they reach the bright halo of a street lamp and pulls Jensen closer by a handful of jacket. His mouth lands off-center on Jensen's, and Jensen has to crane his neck because there's no amount of Jared stooping that doesn't make Jensen feel a little bit like a girl. So he's the one who gets to fist Jared's hair and hold him into place, steer them both out of the light and against a parked SUV, steer the kiss into something that locks, falls into place, clicks. Jared grunts and his weight shifts, pinning Jensen.

"Jesus, you weigh a fucking ton," Jensen huffs, chuckling in the kiss. He's not as sober as he thought he was. Or something.

"Will you let me fuck you?" Jared replies bluntly. Jensen's sure there was a segue somewhere in Jared's head, and he can almost make the connection. His dick hardens at the mere idea of Jared's weight pinning him to a mattress instead of a Jeep. Jared's mouth drifts, soft wet lips smearing down the corner of Jensen's mouth, licking sloppily at the dip under Jensen's lip.

"If you let me take you home you can have your way with me any damn way you like, Jay. But right now," he grunts, "get off me." He doesn't want to be walking another half dozen blocks with a hard-on.

Jared mumbles something that sounds like aight but makes no move to push away from Jensen, his hands slipping into his opened coat instead and finding two handfuls of Jensen's shirt. Jared's curled-in knuckles press into Jensen's bare sides, making him shiver in the cool air. Then Jared opens Jensen's mouth with his again and effectively ends the conversation.

Jensen's too tired, too horny, too sick of fighting the obvious to insist on propriety, and he comes moments later with Jared's hand wedged down his fly and wrapped around his dick and Jared's tongue in his ear, coaxing, whining, "Come for me, Jensen, come for me. Come for me." Jared's own erection rocks absently into Jensen's hip like Jared hasn't even noticed his own predicament.

Jared's technique is either sloppy or perfect; he doesn't give Jensen the chance to catch his breath, to calm the pulse pounding in his ears. Just kisses, all teeth and tongue, hard enough to make Jensen's jaw ache, long enough to make Jensen forget to exhale.

Within the hour he finds out exactly what it's like to have Jared's weight on him. Jared's breath snuffles in Jensen's hair, then he's kissing the back of his neck, down along his back, fucking his tongue into him, then fingers then cock, everything blurring into a fuck, YES moan. Jensen's panting into the duvet by the time Jared's hips rest flush against Jensen's ass.

Jared's breath hitches into his ear, his arm braced against Jensen's, almost holding, or holding on. Jensen turns just enough for Jared to latch on, slicking hotly into his mouth, closing the deal.


End file.
